


Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus has so many plans for his life following his exoneration, and yet nothing seems to go his way. But perhaps it's because he's already there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration drawn from the [Colin Hay song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4tcRlHY-3Q) by the same name. Written for Monika, who asked for "Harry teaching Severus by example that it is better to be loved than to be feared, that people treat you as you treat them and that fear is not respect." AO3 readers, my offer for ficlets still stands! Check out my profile page for details.

Just at the top of the hill that looked down over the village of Hogsmeade is a small cottage. 

There’s nothing extraordinary about it, other than the fact that it stands entirely alone, miles away from any other house. But still, there are whispers in town, stories told in hushed tones detailing just why nobody should ever, ever go up there.

That is the house of Severus Snape.

~*~

“I was thinking of coming by the shop today.”

Severus glances up from where he is washing his dishes in the sink. “Why?”

Harry shrugs. “It’ll give me something to do.”

“You could get a job,” Severus points out. “Finally start earning your keep around here.”

“I could,” Harry agrees. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Severus says nothing.

“Anyway, would you mind? It might be nice. You can brew in the back, and I’ll man the front.”

“There are never more than a handful of customers in a single day,” Severus says. “You’ll quickly become bored.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry says. “I can find ways to entertain myself. Dust bottles, clean the windows…”

Severus frowns. “Why are you doing this?”

Potter smiles, and Severus hates him for it. “Just feels right, I suppose. So, can I come?”

Severus sets the bowl in the drying rack. “If you must.”

~*~

To Severus’ surprise, it’s actually quite nice to have Harry working the shop. He could work in the laboratory without dreading the sound of the bell over the door ringing. Perhaps having Harry here wouldn’t be so bad after all. Severus might even ask him to come back.

It is, after all, how he and Harry ended up as… whatever it is they are. Four months ago he’d run into Harry at a pub, already quite sloshed. Severus had made quick work of joining him in an equal state of inebriation, and then had joined him in an alley behind the pub, where they engaged in some mutually satisfying oral pleasure before retiring to Severus’ home to pursue even more carnal delights. Time had gone on, and Harry simply… hadn’t left. 

It perplexed Severus at first, but he came to find he didn’t truly mind. Potter mostly keeps out of the way, and Severus has to admit it’s nice to have somebody in his bed in the evenings. 

“Hey, Severus?” Harry pokes his head in through the laboratory door. “Do you happen to have any stronger Sleeping Draughts back year? Not quite as strong as Draught of Living Death, but a touch stronger than the regular stuff?”

“Locked cabinet underneath the register. Password is ‘Balfour Blane.’”

“Thanks,” Harry says, and disappears.

“And for Circe’s sake, say it under your breath!” Severus calls after him. “The last thing I need is one of those idiots able to break into my shop and steal those potions and end up getting themselves killed, then come around blaming me.”

“Right!” Harry shouts. 

Severus shakes his head and returns to stirring his Forgetfulness Potion.

~*~

“You know, you have the start of a really nice shop there,” Harry says.

“I don’t need you to patronise me,” Severus snaps.

“I’m not patronising you,” Harry says. “Far from it. Your inventory is incredible. I know; I dusted every bottle there.”

“I have plenty of time to brew when I have no customers,” Severus says. 

“True,” Harry says. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have more customers?”

“Frankly, Harry, I couldn’t give a damn if I never have another customer. It’s not as though the shop will still be open by the end of the year.”

Harry sighs. “Severus, I know you’re trying to find a job at some research institute, but don’t you think maybe you should, I don’t know… focus a bit more on the job you _do_ have?”

“Harry, having a potions shop has always been a temporary stopgap,” Severus says. “A way for me to bide my time and keep my potions skills intact while applying to more lucrative roles.”

“Yes, but you could easily have the best potions shop in the country if you just spent a little more energy working on it,” Harry says. “I mean, obviously your potions are superior to anything else on the market, but your customers… Severus, they’re _terrified_ of you. And I don’t mean ‘scary Potions Master who deducts points if you breathe too loud’ scared. Do you know the rumours going around town? I think I’ve heard everything from that all your potions are actually poisons to that you boil babies in your back room.”

Severus snorts.

“I’m not kidding, Severus. These are really damaging your business. Now, I’m not saying you need to become Hogsmeade’s friendliest shop owner, but I think if you were able to get them to fear you less and respect you more –”

“You see, Harry, that’s precisely why I’ll soon be out of this sham they call a business,” Severus says. “My professional success should have nothing to do with my personality. When I’m hired at one of the numerous research institutes who’ve inquired about my services ever since my exonerations, my performance will be evaluated _solely_ on my brewing skills. They won’t give a damn if my personality scares people away.”

Harry reaches for an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. The bowl is one of Harry’s contributions to the house; Severus didn’t give a damn about apples and harbours an irrational hatred of bananas, but Harry insists he can’t survive on a diet of stew and sausage. “You know, I don’t think you’re half as scary as you think you are.”

“Clearly not, as I haven’t been able to frighten you away. But then again, you’ve always been rather slow on the uptake.”

“Berk,” Harry snorts, and takes a large bite out of his apple. The juice dribbles down his chin, and Severus wonders if perhaps Harry was onto something with the fruit after all. 

“Come here,” he says, and grabs Harry around the waist. When he kisses him, he tastes sweet and tart, and Severus wants to devour him.

“Bed?” Harry whispers.

“Bed.”

~*~

“Post’s here.”

Severus sweeps past Harry and hurries into the kitchen. It had been another moderately successful day at the shop – Severus in the back working on his experimental lycanthropy potion, while Harry somehow managed to make a record-breaking number of sales that day. Given that the previous record was seven transactions, it’s a fairly low bar, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

Still, none of that matters. It’ll be nice to have some extra income to work with to purchase new supplies. Beyond that? Severus snorts. Even if he’d earned a hundred Galleons that day, it would pale in comparison to what’s inside this envelope from the Dorian-Elliot Institute in Stockholm. 

“What does it say?” Harry asks.

Severus quickly glances over the parchment. _Regret. Budgetary cuts. Positions eliminated._

Severus crumbles up the parchment. “It’s no matter.” 

Harry, for some reason, refuses to meet his eyes. “You all right?”

“Of course,” Severus snaps. 

“I’ll make us some supper, then,” Harry says. “Cod curry sound good?”

“It’s fine,” Severus says. “Fine.”

~*~

“Harry, how many phials of Muffling Draughts do we – oh, blast.”

Severus still isn’t accustomed to there being anybody in his shop other than himself and now Harry. But somehow, the one moment he chooses to emerge from his laboratory is when the store is nearly filled with customers.

All of whom were looking at him as though he were an wild Hungarian Horntail.

“Ah, Mr Snape!” Harry exclaims. “Nice to see you out. Everybody, may I present Severus Snape, the owner of Princely Potions. He’s the reason you’re all able to find such high-quality potions right here in Hogsmeade.”

Silence.

“Mrs Jenkins? I believe you wanted to speak with somebody about customising the Blemish Blitzer for your son?”

The woman whom Severus presumes to be Mrs Jenkins shrinks back, wide-eyed.

“Honestly,” Harry says, a sunny smile upon his face. “Do you really believe all those ridiculous rumours?”

“He was a Death Eater!” a man shouts. “He killed Albus Dumbledore. Just look at him! Do you really think he’s not above poisoning us all?”

Severus growls and shoots the man a fierce glare. With a startled squeak, the man grabs the hand of his companion and runs out of the shop, the bell tinkling behind them.

“I’ll be in the back,” he snaps, throwing open the door to his laboratory.

The last thing he hears before the door slams shut is Harry, in a deadly quiet voice, saying, “If anybody else feels the need to spread their vile hatred of a war hero who has saved my life more times than I can count, they can come to me.”

~*~

“What exactly were you hoping to accomplish with that display?”

Harry continues dicing carrots for tonight’s beef stew. “You didn’t expect me to keep silent and let them continue insulting you, did you?”

“I don’t need you to defend me.”

“Well, somebody ought to!” Harry’s voice rises to a shout.

“Potter,” Severus growls. “Contrary to what you may believe, but I am accustomed to people thinking I’m an utter bastard. For the most part, they’re correct.”

“But –”

“Can you deny that anything that man said was false?”

“Well, no,” Harry says, rubbing his temples. “But they don’t know the whole truth.”

“The whole truth is irrelevant. The details are irrelevant. I am not a nice man, Harry, and I have done terrible things in my past. There is no escaping that.”

“But that doesn’t mean you need to walk in your old footsteps.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just think this is such a great opportunity for you,” Harry says. He looks as though he wants to reach out and take Severus’ hands, but he holds himself back. “You can have a whole new life. You’re not a Death Eater, you’re not a spy. You’re just you, Severus Snape, an absolutely brilliant, incredibly brave man with his entire life in front of him. There’s no reason for people to fear you, and it only gets in the way of your progress.”

“I told you,” Severus says. “I’m used to people being afraid of me. I know how to handle it. Hell, I _thrive_ off of it. I am able to get what I want because people are afraid of me.”

Harry shakes his head. “But you could have so much mo –”

“Besides, what does it matter if people in England are afraid of me?” Severus asks. “None of this matters. This is not my real life. None of this is. My top prospects are in Monaco, Italy, and Peru. Within a year I’ll be out of this hellhole forever. What does it matter what people in England think?”

Harry draws a sharp breath. “I need to find some onions,” he says, and hurries out of the room.

~*~

There’s actually a queue waiting for them at the shop the next morning. Harry mutters something about a stomach virus going around and quickly hurries to unlock the door, while Severus sneaks in through the back to begin brewing anti-nausea potions.

Harry has been quiet since supper last night. Apparently he’s taking this whole matter of people being afraid of Severus to heart, although Severus cannot even begin to fathom why. What does it matter to Harry if people don’t like him? Harry knew when they first started shagging that most people hated him. It certainly shouldn’t make a difference now.

Normally Severus might spend at least an hour or two stewing over the matter in the backroom as he worked on his potions for the day, but today is so swamped it’s not long before Harry calls him out to help him deal with customers. It takes all of three minutes before Severus realises how greatly Harry has spoiled him; the public is, by and large, utterly idiotic. Severus works silently, dispensing jars and phials with as little interaction with the customers as possible. It’s best for all parties.

“Severus, there was a man who wanted to speak with you!” Harry shouts over the din. “He’s over there in the red cape and top hat.”

“I’m a little busy, Potter,” Severus snaps as he unlocks the cupboard of extra-potent potions. “Perhaps you could entertain him.”

Severus doesn’t wait for a response; it’s not as though he has time to, not with everybody and their demon spawn calling after him for more anti-nausea potions. Merlin, at this rate he’d have to close the shop early so he could brew enough to keep in shop tomorrow. Before that, of course, he’d need to pay a visit to St Mungo’s to yell at the incompetent Healers who were forcing him to give up valuable brewing time when he could be working to find a cure for lycanthropy because none of the fools employed there could manage a simple Pepperup.

“Excuse me. Are you Severus Snape?”

“As if anybody else would willingly be in this hellhole,” Severus says as he corks a phial and hands it to a chubby witch behind him. 

“I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time.”

“That depends,” Severus says. “I have a finite number of moments left in this blasted life, and I’d prefer to spend fewer of them hearing about how your child has developed sniffles in addition to sicking up whatever monstrosity of a meal your wife inflicted upon him.”

“I don’t have a child, Mr Snape,” the man says. “But perhaps we could go somewhere more private. I do have a matter I’d wish to discuss with you.”

“While I’m flattered, sir, I’m quite busy at the moment. Not to mention the charming gentleman manning the register might be put out, and I need him to continue doing just that, so that I can get some work done in this place.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Very well, then. Allow me to give you my card. Please contact me when you’re not so… busy.”

Even before the man puts on his bright red top hat and heads out of the shop, Severus knows what his card will read.

_Emil Du Bois, Chief Recruitment Officer, Jacques Pierre Olivier Potions Institute, Monaco._

Severus closes his eyes.

_Blast._

~*~

“Well, that was easily the most profitable day we’ve had in ages,” Harry says.

“What do you know?” Severus snaps. “You haven’t even been working two weeks.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Sorry.”

Severus rubs his temples. “This isn’t the way it was meant to happen.”

Harry says nothing, but he wraps his arms around Severus and kisses his cheek. And for a moment, Severus exhales, relaxes, and allows himself to be held.

~*~

The week doesn’t get any better after that. Two days letter, a letter arrives requesting Severus travel to Florence for a final interview.

“Well, that’s great,” Harry says. “Isn’t it?”

Severus tosses the letter in the fire. “There’s a strict stipulation that I would be a silent partner only. Any potions I intend to patent would immediately become their property. I would never be allowed to publicly state my place of employment.” He laughs bitterly. “They want my skills, so long as my name stays far away.”

“Wow,” Harry says. “They can do that?”

“Of course they can,” Severus snarls. “And don’t you say anything.”

“Say anything about what?” Harry asks.

“About how this is all my fault, that people don’t wish to be associated with me, that my fearsome reputation is coming back to haunt me.” Severus’ breath is coming in sharp gasps now, and he bends over, clasping his head in his hands.

“Oh, Severus,” Harry breathes, and puts his arms around Severus. “I would never. Believe me. There’s nothing I want more than to see you happy and successful.”

“I had a plan,” Severus says. He knows he’s speaking more rapidly than usual, that he’s losing control, but he’s so fucking tired he doesn’t even care. “As soon as I was exonerated, I made my plan. I was going to escape. I was going to finally have the life I wanted, the life I fucking _deserve_. And yet I wake up every day, every damn day, and nothing happens.”

“Shh,” Harry says, rubbing his shoulders. “Something’s happening right now. I can feel it.”

“Soon,” Severus says under his breath. “So very soon.”

~*~

“Don’t worry, Mr Vitam. We’ll be able to arrange something.”

The man standing at the register shakes Harry’s hand and, taking his parcels, turns to leave. And then, when he sees Severus standing at the front door, he does the most peculiar thing.

He bows his head, and leaves without a word.

“What was that about?” Severus asks, taking off his cloak. It appears that everybody else is off recovering from the stomach bug, as the shop is now entirely empty.

“Oh, Mr Vitam’s daughter isn’t doing well. Her healers want her on another month’s dosage. We were just going over some of the logistics.”

Severus nods. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Harry grins and ruffles his hair. “Well, somebody had to open the shop while you were off having your morning sulk.”

“You do realise this is not actually your job,” Severus says pointedly. “I’m not paying you to be here to run the shop.”

“I don’t need the money,” Harry says.

“Then why are you here?” It’s something Severus has wondered time and time again, why Harry is up at the crack of dawn to join him at the shop, why he puts up with Severus’ moods and rages, why he’s so damn determined to make this shop a success when Severus himself can’t even bring himself to summon the slightest enthusiasm for it. 

Harry’s smile dims somewhat, but there’s still a glint of something in his eyes. Severus can’t quite place it, but he knows enough not to underestimate it. “It’s important,” Harry says. “I want to be here.”

Severus nods. “On your head.”

“As always,” Harry says, and his face is bright again. “Will you be in the back?”

“Yes,” Severus says. Then, on impulse, he leans over the counter and lightly kisses Harry on the lips. 

“Mmm,” Harry says as they part. “Careful. A man could get used to that.”

Severus snorts and disappears into his laboratory.

Harry always was slightly mad.

~*~

Severus wakes with a sharp gasp. Panting, he sits up in bed, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

Harry stirs beside him. “Sev’rus?”

“Go back to sleep, Harry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Harry shifts, curls up against Severus. “You’re shaking. Nightmare?”

“No,” Severus whispers. “It was a beautiful dream. A terribly beautiful dream.”

Harry clutches Severus’ hand. “What happened?”

“I won,” Severus says. “I won everything. I had it all. My career. Publications. Awards. A life away from all… _this_. And then I wake up and…”

“And?” Harry asks, his voice very quiet.

Severus shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just here.”

“Yes,” Harry says. He caresses Severus’ cheek, draws him into a long, tender kiss. It is somewhat surprising to Severus. Typically it’s Harry who waits for Severus to reach out, but he’s been growing bolder these past few weeks. Gentle touches, light kisses, soft brushes of the hand as they pass each other. Nothing ostentatious, nothing shocking, but Severus finds himself reminded more and more often that Harry is a presence in his life. A fixed point. “How about that’s all we think of for tonight, Severus? Just be here now.”

For the briefest moment Severus wonders if there’s more coming, if Harry will add on the words “with me” to his request, but all Harry does is kiss him again.

_Just be._

~*~

Severus doesn’t go to the shop the next day. Not because he’s angry, or frustrated, or even that he simply doesn’t feel like stepping foot inside of it. It’s more because ever since last night, his head had been spinning so much he feels ever so slightly out of control. All of his thoughts, all of his fears and wishes and dreams, spiralling swiftly like a tornado, funnelling down to centre on one…

 _What_?

He spends the day, instead, sitting in his kitchen, sipping tea, and attempting to make sense of it all, and coming to no notable conclusions. All he knows is he feels different, somehow, and that it has the potential to change everything.

He’s standing over the kettle, waiting for it to whistle for his ninth cup of tea, when he sees it. A figure, making its way up the hill, headed straight to Severus’ house. 

Severus quickly turns off the burner and heads outside. Other than Harry, he’s never had a visitor here. He knows what the townspeople say about this house, and he’s done nothing to persuade people to think differently. The solitude suits him. Fear is good for that.

“Who are you?” he shouts, drawing his wand. “What are you doing here? Whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

The man draws back his cloak, and Severus recognises him even before he says his name. “My name is Augustus Vitam. I was in your shop just the other day.”

Severus nods. “I remember you.”

“My daughter’s been very ill,” Vitam says. “But I couldn’t afford the potions she needed. I spoke with your colleague, Mr Potter? And he told me you insisted on selling them to me at a reduced rate.”

Severus blinks. He’s never said any such thing. Hell, chances are if Harry had asked him, Severus would have refused. But Vitam shows no sign of stopping.

“I still intend on paying you in full one day. But in the meantime, I want you to have this,” Vitam says, and hands Severus a basket. “My wife loved brewing potions. She’s no longer with us, but we’ve kept her garden as vibrant as when she was alive. I’ve given you clippings of nearly everything we have, in hopes that this small token will show you how greatly I appreciate your compassion.”

Severus peers inside the basket; it is overflowing with potions ingredients, more than enough to last him for the week. “How is your daughter?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Severus nods. “Good.” He frowns at Vitam. “You realise you could have left these at the shop.”

“Mr Potter told me where you were, and I wanted to speak to you myself,” Vitam says. “I needed to speak to the man who saved my daughter.”

“Nobody comes up this way,” Severus points out. “Most are too afraid.”

“I have nothing to fear,” Vitam says. 

Severus raises his eyebrow, and Vitam chuckles.

“I’ve heard the rumours, yes,” Vitam says. “And I’ve read the papers. But all I’ve seen is a very talent potions master who took pity on a poor man. And for that I am grateful.” He reaches out and shakes Severus’ hand. “I hope you stay with us for a very long time, Mr Snape.” And, pulling his cloak over his head, he turns back down the hill.

~*~

Severus is still standing there when Harry returns. “Quiet day, so I closed early” he says, then smiles and kisses Severus lightly. “Besides, I was getting a little lonely.”

Severus doesn’t mention how it should make no difference, given how rarely he ever spends time in the front of the store now that Harry’s taken over. 

“So, anything exciting happen today?” Harry asks.

“Mr Vitam stopped by,” Severus says.

“Oh, really?” Harry looks slightly nervous, but not at all chagrined. “How’s Antonia doing?”

Severus’ response is interrupted by a somewhat dazed-looking owl dropping a rather thick envelope directly on his head. Harry stoops to pick it up, his eyes quickly flicking over the address. 

“It’s from Peru,” he says, handing it to Severus. “Congratulations.”

Severus doesn’t argue with him; the envelope is far too thick to be anything but a job offer. He tucks it away into his robes, then takes Harry’s face in his hands.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

Harry’s brow furrows. “Sorry?”

“I’ve been here for years, waiting, biding my time until _something_ happened to take me away from here… and you stayed. With me. Why?”

“I guess I just felt like you needed someone,” Harry says, chin held high. 

“But what about you?” Severus asks. “You’re in my house, cooking me supper, working in my shop, dealing with my moods… what can you possibly hope to attain from this?”

Harry’s lips curl upwards into a not-quite smile. “I think I already have it.”

“You already have it,” Severus repeats. “And if I go to Peru, will you still have it?”

“Severus…”

“This would change everything, you realise,” Severus says, the urgency in his voice surprising even himself. 

“It doesn’t have to,” Harry says. “Only if you want it to.”

And suddenly Severus’ world stops spinning and he realises just what is at the eye of the storm that had been threatening his sanity all day.

“I need you,” he whispers. “You’re my… you keep me steady. You are my…” 

“Your what, Severus?” Harry asks.

Severus shakes his head. “I’ve been so busy waiting for life to take me away that I didn’t even realise there was a new one here waiting for me, mine for the taking.”

This time it was a real smile that crossed Harry’s face. “I tried to tell you.”

“You did,” Severus concedes. “But I needed to see it.”

“And what is it that you see?” Harry asks. His entire face is alight now, and Severus knows he’s eager to kiss him. It’s a pleasant thought.

“You,” he says, stroking Harry’s cheek. “And a house on a hill that, on a clear day and in the right light, we can just make out our shop in Hogsmeade. It’s more than I ever could have hoped for… which is, perhaps, why I never dreamt of it in the first place.”

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice awed. “Remind me to send Mr Vitam a thank you note.”

“Mr Vitam isn’t the one I have to thank,” Severus says. And finally he does what he’s wanted to all afternoon, ever since Vitam left, and kisses Harry. It’s passionate, sweet, and full of promise, and Severus wonders why he never realised it before.

“So, that’s it,” Harry says when they part. “You’re really staying? You actually want to stay?”

“As long as you’re staying here with me,” Severus says, dropping his hands around Harry’s waist. “This may have been quite the enlightening afternoon, but I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to be on my own just yet. I could use some more… _guidance_. If you’re willing.”

“Of course,” Harry says, grinning broadly. He has that old, dangerous sparkle in his eyes now, and Severus wonders what he’s planning. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Severus exhales and envelops Harry in his arms, kissing him once more.

It’s a different new life than he’d planned.

_It’s a better one._


End file.
